


Reinforce

by ToriCeratops



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: First Fight, M/M, Post Battle, past thoughts of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:36:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToriCeratops/pseuds/ToriCeratops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that they've never fought before.  It's that they've never fought as "them" before.  It's a whole new feeling, letting someone down for the first time.  </p><p>Especially when you're not quite sure just what you did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reinforce

The rain outside seems like it’s never going to end.

It feels like it should be poetic, that moments after the battle was over the black clouds had opened up and drenched the world.  In seconds all the blood, dirt, and sweat had started washing away, draining with the downpour as if it had never even been there.

But Bucky’s never been one for poetry.

All he knows is that he’s fucking wet and his arm is broken.

Oh yeah, and for whatever reason, Sam’s not talking to him – he knows that too.  His day so far just keeps getting better and better and it’s not even noon yet.

 

Bucky’s not the only one who got messed up though.  One of Sam’s wings had been clipped towards the end.  He’d been skimming the ground when it happened so his fall left him with nothing more than a few scrapes.  But it meant a walk back to the tower where, hopefully, Tony would already be waiting in the workshop with a spare arm for Bucky.

So, silent walk in the rain, drenching the lobby of Stark tower and then finding himself in an enclosed space with his boyfriend who, again, is still not speaking to him.

Awesome day.

Their relationship as it stands is still so new it’s often terrifying.  Though it’s built on a solid foundation of a couple years of trust and respect, (and at LEAST a year of quiet pining on Bucky’s part) the more recent pieces feel so fragile that Bucky swears if he moves his left hand wrong the glass will shatter and they’ll both tumble back down.  He’s going over every second of the fight in his head – every decision he made, every word he said, which commands he had followed and which ones he had chosen to ignore.  The intensity of their situation had left little time for the team’s usual banter (though Barton and Stark had still gotten in a few one liners) so he didn’t THINK he could have said anything a little too close to home.

That, of course, didn’t mean he hadn’t.

He’s just chancing a glance over at Sam, who’s standing rigid with his broken pack on his back, arms down at his side and staring straight forward, face betraying nothing, when the elevator jerks to a halt.

Before either of them can react Stark’s voice comes over their personal comms.  “Don’t panic.  My bad.  Two minutes.”

Fucking hell.

Bucky steps back and lets his head fall against the wall with a heavy thud.  He notices the way Sam’s fists clench at his side but he otherwise doesn’t move.  What the hell.  Might as well get it out while neither of them can run away.

“You gonna tell me what the hell I did to piss you off?”

“I’m not pissed off.”  He answers tightly and far too quickly.

“Bullshit.”

Sam may still be refusing to look anywhere but straight ahead but Bucky is watching him closely, watching the tension in his shoulders and the tick in his jaw.  “I’ve obviously done something because you have never given me the cold shoulder like this before.” 

His head tilts.  Bucky can just see the way he presses his lips together in a bitter frown.  “I didn’t say you didn’t do anything.  I said I wasn’t pissed off.”

“Ok fine.  Then what did I do to make you whatever the hell you are now?  Which you will also need to enlighten me on because if it’s not pissed off I really don’t know what is.”

Sam’s sigh is drawn out and heavy and for a long time he doesn’t answer.  The whole situation has Bucky’s own temper slowly simmering and threatening to overtake the worry.  So far Sam has always been the one he could count on to be one hundred and ten percent straight with him.  He never sugar coated anything and had always presented the world and any problems as-is, including their own.

Which is why his mood has Bucky completely stumped.

“You are reckless.”  Sam’s quiet utterance breaks the stillness of their silence.  “You are constantly putting yourself in more danger than you need to in order to accomplish your goals.”

That’s just stupid.  Bucky steps forward and looks at Sam even though the other man still won’t make eye contact.  “We are Avengers!  Putting ourselves in danger is what we do!  It’s our job.”

Apparently that’s enough to push Sam over.  “There are other options, Bucky!”  He turns, Bucky finally getting a good look at the fierce ache in his eyes.  “Every time you do shit like this there are other options.  Ones that don’t put you less than an inch from staring down death.”  Sam hits Bucky’s left arm with the back of his hand – Bucky’s arm that is limp, hanging useless at his side, crushed from combat by a robot that had been aiming straight for his head.

Bucky looks away, feeling old, familiar walls creeping back into place and says, “So what?” with a resigned sigh.  Because it’s been his go to answer for decades.  Because even through the haze of people fucking with his brain and up until so recently he can remember what day of the week it had changed, all Bucky had ever wanted in the back of his head was for it to end.  One way or another a part of him was always looking for a way out, and that was it.  Combat. Even though it didn’t’ always hurt to wake up anymore, even though going to sleep wasn’t so terrifying, and there are people who want and care for him and that he doesn’t want to let down – people he wants to live for – it’s still his answer.  Out of habit if nothing else.  It’s always been his answer. 

It’s the wrong damn answer.

Even though Bucky doesn’t know how exactly he was expecting Sam to react, what he gets wasn’t it.  He doesn’t say anything.  He doesn’t explode with anger or hurt or any mixture of the two.  Instead, all of Sam’s features go carefully blank and he returns to his earlier position, hands at his side and staring straight ahead, whole body tenser than before which Bucky would have thought impossible. 

He tries to take a step towards him, “Sam.  I didn’t-“

“Don’t.”

Bucky snaps back as if he’d been burned, stance mimicking Sam’s instantly. 

It feels like forever they stand there in the silent, motionless tomb.  Bucky feels numb and light headed, like he’s cut off from his oxygen supply and he can’t figure out how to reattach it.  It’s a similar feeling to how he used to shut down, when the world was too much and he couldn’t take any more input.  But it’s different and worse all at the same time because he’s gotten used to that life line that Sam had provided for him.  He’s even more lost without it than ever before. 

He has no idea how long they stand there for, stuck in the same 36 square feet of each other’s space and worlds apart.  He’s so lost in the retreat into his old shells that Bucky doesn’t even realize they are moving again until the door slides open, revealing the hall that leads to Tony’s shop.  It’s more of a shock than anything else when he steps out of the elevator and Sam doesn’t follow.

As he’d expected, his arm won’t be fixed.  Stark bitches and moans about having to salvage what he can and start from scratch, though when he talks about all the ideas he’s had it doesn’t exactly sound like he’s devastated or anything.  Bucky doesn’t talk, just lets Tony fill the silence for the both of them and barely pays enough attention to nod a yes or no when prompted.  While Tony’s forcing bits and pieces away he mumbles about whatever comes to mind, what their plans are after that morning, what Steve is probably doing with the culprits as they speak.

It all goes in one ear and out the other.

Bucky had done more damage that he’d thought though and his ports are mostly unusable.  Which means he’s going to be out of commission for at least two days while Tony fabricates some new ones and has them replaced – which is technically surgery, however minor, but Bucky had long since ceased worrying about that aspect of his life.

An hour later he’s sitting on the foot of his bed, a temporary cap sealing off his shoulder and staring out at the sheets of water falling down the incline of his window.  It’s impossible to see anything through it and the dark clouds don’t let a single drop of sunlight escape them.

White noise and grey vision were once a safe haven where no thoughts could infiltrate.

It’s nowhere near as comforting as it once was.

A quiet knock breaks the stillness but its several beats before Bucky responds.  “Let him in JARVIS.”

He doesn’t move, feet firmly planted on the ground, his one arm resting in his lap.  His hair is damp from a shower and clinging to his face and bare shoulders and back.  It’s gotten unruly again.  Sometimes he wishes he had some productive type of hobby, like Steve with his art or Tony with his tinkering.  Hell, Natasha knits.  And Sam…

The bed dips behind him.  Sam’s voice is quiet but firm, making sure Bucky is completely aware of his presence.  “Can I touch you?”  It's been a long time since he's had to ask.

Bucky only nods.

A moment later Sam is kneeling behind him on the bed with his hands working a slow and careful massage into the muscles of Bucky’s back.  “How bad?”  He asks as he trails a finger along the edge of metal.

He’s not paying much attention to his own body but Bucky knows if he was he’d be sore as hell right now.  Sam seems to understand that.  “B and D ports have to be replaced and the socket needs reshaping.”

Sam’s grip tightens almost imperceptibly and he pauses.  “So surgery.”

Bucky shrugs.  “Not a big deal.”

Even though he’s not looking at Sam he can imagine him getting frustrated again, like before in the elevator.

But he’s surprised.  “I’ll go with you if you want, but only if you ask.  I know you can handle it, that you’ve done it before.”  Sam’s response is cool and even, nowhere near the level of tense he’d been earlier.   

Bucky feels a little bit of his mental shields slip away.  “Yeah.  Yeah I have.”  And it’s always been alone.  “But uh, this one was a little worse than I thought.”

He can feel the warmth of Sam’s sigh just before a kiss is pressed to his shoulder. “I could have told you that.” 

They’re both silent for a long time, Sam working the tension from Bucky’s muscles in slow and steady motions.  It’s a silence they haven’t experienced in a long time, awkward and tense, with both of them feeling like they need to say something but no one really sure how to start or where they’re going.  This one is different from the early days of figuring each other out though, this one feels like something cracking, rather than the nerves of something new growing. 

“I can’t apologize for being upset you were hurt and that it was because you were reckless.”  Sam breaks the silence with quiet words, snaking his arms down Bucky’s front to hold onto his chest.  “But for what I did in the elevator…”  He trails off and Bucky can feel him take a breath and exhale against his skin, warm and sweet.  Bucky doesn’t say anything, just reaches his one hand up to grab onto Sam’s.  “Helping soldiers adjust is what I do.  It’s what I live for now.  There are three important things in my life.”  He pauses, pressing another kiss to Bucky’s shoulder.  “You, the Avengers, and the work I do every day.  But the way I reacted when it was you?  When someone so damn important to me is the one saying they don’t care if they survive the battle?  I shut down.  I couldn’t deal with that and getting angry about it was the exact opposite of what I should have done.  And I’m sorry.”

Bucky drops his head back so he’s resting against Sam’s shoulder, slowly starting to run his thumb along the long lines of Sam’s hand.  When he speaks, his voice is cracked as if he’s been crying.  “I didn’t mean it, Sam.  I – I didn’t mean it like I used to.”  He can tell Sam had honestly believed him because the instant the words are out of his mouth Sam exhales and droops against him, arms around Bucky’s chest tightening into a possessive hold.   Bucky twists in his arms, sliding his hand up and along long lines of soft dark skin until he can cradle his head and guide him into a gentle kiss. 

What they are together is still new, but it’s important and worth it so they take the time to find the fault, the cracks and the weak spots, and reinforce them, bit by bit

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted at [Tumblr](toriceratops.tumblr.com), where my ask box is always open.


End file.
